Four Nurses and a Midwife - A Family History

In Sri Lanka, Nurses and midwives are in the news now, for being at each others' throats. But they made me recall my family’s history in these services.

My late father had six sisters.  Four of them – Lucy, Alice, Kate, and Amy - became nurses, two rising to become matrons. Amy retired as the head of Ragama hospital, which is now a teaching hospital. Lucy, too, retired as a matron. Alice, the lone survivor of the family at 98, lives in Brisbane. She last worked at Kandy hospital.

My mother Fernie took the SSC (Senior School Certificate) exam at a time when the newspaper printed the names of those who passed. Her name proudly appeared in the list. For reasons she never explained, she decided to become a midwife. One of her instructors was Lucy, before they became in-laws. My mother recalled that the harshest word  Lucy used on her trainees was "nariya” (fox). Gentle Aunt Lucy, whose last days were spent in sadness.

My mother worked as a field midwife, conducting pre-natal clinics, delivering hundreds of babies,  and following up with home visits. She never learned to ride a bicycle and must have trudged hundreds of miles during her rounds. She worked in remote area like Galgamuwa, Teldeniya, and Dankotuwa. I have memories of her, dressed in an official issue white cotton saree with a blue border, carrying a handbag and a black umbrella.

When she was in labour to deliver me, my mother was taken to the Negombo hospital, late at night. At the maternity ward, when she heard some midwives and attendants scolding (in foul language) the expectant mothers who were screaming in pain, my mother refused to stay there and insisted on being driven home. On the way back, when she couldn’t bear the pain any longer, they turned into the Sandalankawa hospital, where I was born in the wee hours of the morning.

I still pass Sandalankawa hospital on the way to Kandy. Perhaps I should visit my birthplace one of these days. I hope the nurses and midwives there are getting along.

PS. Towards the end of her career, my mother, ironically, worked in the maternity ward of Negombo hospital. I hope she was kind to expectant mothers. (Unlikely, because she had a temper!)

In Hong Kong, I met a Sri Lankan who was born at the maternity ward of the Negombo hospital, a couple of months after my mother refused to get admitted there. The midwives may have been kind to his mother because her husband was the DMO (District Medical Officer)! 

Aunty Kay